


Seasons

by littlemsbookworm (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/littlemsbookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England, Seychelles, and their relationship through the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons

When the spring downpours begin she likes to run through the newly-made puddles as fast as she can, rain boots optional. This annoys him to no end, which he knows she’s well aware of. Sometimes she drags him outside with her. He makes a fuss about wrinkled clothes and dirty feet before she promptly shoves him headfirst into one of the larger puddles. Secretly, he enjoys it.

In the summertime they lounge in the grass. She drinks iced tea like there’s no tomorrow. He considers this sacrilege, a mistreatment of an already perfect product. She rolls her eyes and drops an ice cube down his back, laughing when he jumps up like a scared cat.

Autumn is her favorite. Sometimes they walk through the forests, watching the leaves change into an array of red, orange, and gold. He likes to surprise her with a kiss and watch her cheeks turn the same color as the trees.

Winter they spend apart. She doesn’t like the cold, even though his is relatively mild compared to the rest of Europe. It’s hard to compare icy nights and bitter winds to warm sand and tropical breezes. But he can’t bring himself to leave, preferring to stay and watch the snow silently build up on the windowsill. Every now and then she sends a postcard-one of the tacky ones meant for tourists-with pictures of bright beaches and pristine ocean. He’s not sure if she’s teasing him or not, but he saves every one anyway. After the Christmas season, when the snow stops being magical and turns into dirty slush, is when he really begins to feel alone. He taps his fingers impatiently and watches the clock, wishing that it would tick a little faster.

When it finally begins to melt he finds himself listening-waiting to hear the familiar sound of footsteps in the rain.


End file.
